Perpetual Mirages
by Elisa Jackson
Summary: “Sometimes things happen, and you really don't know why they happen.” What do you do when the only person who can save you is someone you've thought you've forgotten?
1. Vivian

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Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Things not belonging to JK Rowling are things that are not familiar. These things are made up and belong to the author, Elisa Jackson. © 2003.

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Author's Note: I've been told that this is the most likable OC they've ever seen. I hope you feel the same way, I just based her on a lot of different people I knew. The only complaint is her beauty - I made her attractive because of her family, and the whole line of them are good-looking, so why not carry on the tradition? Warnings: This story contains sexual references, adult language, violence, and slash. If you do not what slash is, it's a homosexual relationship, and if you aren't comfortable with it, turn the back browser _now_. All reviews are accepted, even flames, just be prepared for me to hunt you down. -- Elisa Jackson

***

"_Everyday it's something, hits me all so cold,_"

-- "No Excuses," Alice in Chains

__

"Do you really plan on killing me, Alice?" a cold voice drawled from the body of a lean man with silver hair and penetrating silver eyes. He stared at his opponent, a chubby, bubbly woman whose senses of exuberance had been drained from her face as she stared him down. 

Her usually warm, chocolate eyes flashed. "Crouch's old law of Aurors killing Death Eaters has yet to be vetoed," she snarled. "And I tend to abide by the law, Deron." 

The man called Deron took a step back and threw a quick glance behind him to a woman who looked just like him. "Fine," he said. "You can kill me, but would you really kill Leda too? I mean, Vivian needs one parent at least." 

"No, I do not intend to kill Leda," Alice said. Without warning, she had her hand grasping her foe's neck. "I intend to let Frank do it." Deron seized her arm and twisted it behind her back and attempted to kick her to temporarily paralyze her. She was too quick for him, despite her frame, and reversed the move and now had him in eye of her wand.

Deron let out a soft rumble, which turned into a chuckle. "Your bravado is to be admired," Alice still kept her arm up, never wavering with her wand.

"Give me a reason, Deron. Give me a reason and I swear, I'll kill you in cold blood."

He didn't respond. "But why would you want to kill me?" His voice dropped to a patronizing mock tone. "Wouldn't that automatically stoop you down to my level?"

"After all the people you tortured and murdered? I doubt I shall get anything less then a parade once I've done you in." Alice still had her wand at the ready, waiting for him to even breathe funny so she had excuse to say the killing curse, to just destroy him like a piece of dung on the bottom of her shoes…

Deron took another step back, Alice took another step forward. "I daresay you shall meet a very dark path, someday, Alice Longbottom," he sneered. 

"And I daresay you shall be meeting that dark end right now," she shouted. "Avada Kedavra!" And Deron Malfoy fell over, dead. 

Leda Malfoy let out a horrific scream as she saw her husband crumple to the ground. Then she turned to face Frank Longbottom. "Going to do me in as well? Leave my daughter to be an orphan?"

"Better an orphan than having parents like you," Frank spat. 

She discreetly drew her wand out. "I might die," she began, "but I might not." She paused. "I'm going to avenge my husband. Crucio!" she bellowed, and Frank toppled over as rips of pain sped through his body.

Leda gave out an evil laugh and watched as he struggled to his feet. "You have no idea what you're up against, Longbottom! Cruc--" She was cut off in mid sentence by Alice pushing her to the ground and hurling her wand twenty feet away. 

"Neither do you, Leda. Avada Kedavra!" 

Six-year old Vivian Malfoy awoke with a start. 

****

February 1986

The young girl tiptoed down the long hallway, avoiding the spots where dentations made a slight _creak._ Her white nightgown brushed against her bare feet, her shimmering platinum hair glowing in the darkness. Reaching the door she wanted, she slowly opened it. 

"Draco," she whispered. She entered the room now, and sluggishly pulled the covers off of her cousin, who had been sleeping so soundly, it had almost been painful to wake him. 

Her cousin mumbled some incoherent things, and rolled over. "Wake up," she hissed, tickling his back. This woke him up. He started to giggle loudly. He abruptly stopped when he saw who it had been that had woken him up. 

"Oh. It's you," he said, slamming his head back into the pillows.

She rolled her eyes and clutched the teddy bear she was carrying close to her chest. "Yes. I had another dream about my parents. Can I sleep with you?" She pouted a bit, giving herself the illusion of a double chin and full cheeks. Sighing, her cousin made room for her on his bed.

"Honestly, Vivian. You should tell my Mum or dad about those dreams. Maybe they could help." 

"You know they won't. They're going to say the same things they always say. 'You're a Seer and--'"

"'Embrace your gift,'" 

The two six-year olds laid on the bed in silence. It had started to rain in the time of the cousin's exchange, and while both had their eyes closed, neither of them could find the strength to go to sleep. "Draco," Vivian said suddenly, her eyes still closed.

"Hm?"

"Do you know anything about my parents?"

Draco opened his eyes. "Why are you asking me? You're the Seer," he yawned, and retrieved his blanket from the end of his bed and covered him and his company.

"I can only see the past and future. I can't see personalities or anything like that. I'm sure you heard your father talking about them once, I just know it."

He groaned. At this rate, he was never going to get back to sleep. He racked his brain for information on his dead aunt and uncle, even a little bit of it made up so his cousin could shut up and he could get some rest.

"My father and your father were brothers. Your parents were Death Eaters and they were killed by Aurors." 

Vivian scratched her hand and hitched the teddy bear up by her shoulders. "You just told me everything that I dreamed about." She paused. "What's a Voldemort?"

This made Draco sit up. The name brought the hairs on his arms and neck to rise.

"What?"

"Voldemort. I heard your dad talking about him the other day."

Draco chewed at his lip from the inside. "He's evil and I don't like to talk about him."

"I know the word Death Eater, but I don't know what they do."

He grimaced again. Would his cousin ever shut up? She could easily ask for this information from his father or mother, but no. It was him she had to prod. It was always him. "Death Eaters serve Vol--That evil guy."

Vivian gasped. "Were my parents evil? The people that, that killed them didn't seem to like them very much, though." 

Were Vivian's parents evil? Draco didn't know, he had never met them. But they had served Voldemort. Then again, his own father served Voldemort and _he_ wasn't evil, was he? "I don't think your parents were evil. By the way, they're Aurors."

"What?"

"The people that killed your parents are called Aurors."

Vivian's eyes dropped to her pillow. "I hate Aurors." She rolled over onto her side. "Good night, Draco."

"Good night, Vivian." 

The next morning, Draco woke first and had to maneuver himself cleverly around his cousin if he didn't want to step on her when he got out of bed. He shuffled down the stairs to breakfast, where his mother was already pouring his father a second cup of tea. 

"Good morning, Draco," Lucius said brusquely. "Where's Vivian? You two know very well we like to eat breakfast as a family--"

With that, pounding rhythmic beats began to come from the stairs. "I'm here, Uncle Lucius," Vivian said in a small voice, taking a seat next to Draco. Lucius eyed her carefully as she took a piece of toast from the bread basket and struggled to butter it. 

"Oh, give it here," Lucius snapped. He buttered her toast in two swift movements. With a tiny mention of her gratitude, Vivian had began to daintily eat the toast, though she was starving. 

Uncle Lucius did not like impolite ladies. 

Narcissa set down various plates at the various people at the table and then situated herself at the other end of the table, facing her husband. "Did you all sleep well?" Lucius asked, talking like he was having a conversation with preppy Pureblood teenagers rather then two six-year olds. 

"Yes, Father," Draco said, smoothly glossing over the fact that he _didn't _sleep well. He paused and shot a sideways glance towards his cousin, who never took her eyes off the floor. "Actually, no, Father. Vivian came to ask if she could stay with me."

Vivian's eyes widened and she dropped the piece of bacon from her usually nimble fingers. She kicked Draco under the table. "Really?" Lucius asked, rounding on his niece. "What was the matter?"

She blinked her gray eyes rapidly for a couple of moments and then squeaked, "I…had a nightmare. About my parents."

Narcissa shot Lucius a look, very confident that neither of the children saw it. "Can't you make the dreams stop?" Vivian asked. "I don't want to see my parents dying every time I close my eyes." She tried to sound assertive, but her voice came out shaky and scared.

"Honey," Narcissa began, "maybe we can take you to St. Mungo's. I'm sure some Healers can charm the mind or something so that you don't see--"

"Absolutely not," Lucius said at once, his voice cold as ice. "That is rubbish. Vivian's a Seer and should embrace her gift." 

Draco heard this entire exchange, but kept his eyes down low the whole time, not wanting to look at his father, for fear he might lash at him, not wanting to look at his cousin, for fear she might erupt into tears onto his shoulder, and not wanting to look at his mother because she wasn't looking at him, she was looking at Lucius.

"Lucius, if the child has frightening images…She's so young. We could always get the charm removed once she reaches a certain age." Narcissa tried to tread lightly, but her husband had a cannon ball temper.

He shot an icy glance at his son and niece. "Vivian, Draco, please leave the table."

Draco and Vivian didn't need to be told twice. They promptly pushed their plates aside to the middle of the table and ran up the stairs as if they were being chased by dementors. "I've never seen your father that angry," Vivian breathed once they were safely behind the door of Draco's room. 

"I have," Draco whispered. He shuddered, as if the mere memory of his father's outburst was too horrific to think about. 

Vivian pressed her ear to the closed door. "Listen," she said. "You could almost make out what they're talking about…They're talking about me…" Sure enough, the only clear word they could make out was 'Vivian.'

"This really isn't fair," she whined. "I should be down there, letting them know how I feel. This is about me, after all."

Draco blinked. "You're a Malfoy. Nothing's fair." 

She stared at him, searching for the most smart reply her young mind could find her, but in the end she settled for silence. She turned her attention back to the door. "They stopped talking." She closed her eyes as that would make her hearing any better and then sighed. "Your father went to work."

Her cousin began to push his toys and whatnot under the bed. "Maybe he has a reason." 

"A reason for what?"

Now he began to open the door, as to lead her out of his room. "Maybe my father's got a reason for you to keep the visions." He pointed to the hallway. "Now, if you don't mind, I want to change out of my pajamas and into my robes. Mother's taking us to Diagon Alley today."

Vivian stepped outside the threshold of the door. "But if he's got reasons, couldn't he just tell me why--?"

But she was talking to a closed door. 

An hour or so later, Narcissa had exchanged her nightwear and up-do for witch's robes and let her hair, the exact color and texture of Draco's and Vivian's, hang loose around her shoulders. Vivian had always thought her aunt was beautiful, but there was a gray cloud that hung over her, like a constant thunderstorm. 

"Floo Powder," Narcissa said, gracefully moving a hand towards the fire place. 

Narcissa gently nudged her son into the fireplace. "You first, dear. Speak very clearly, otherwise you'll wind up in God-Knows-Where." 

It was obvious truth that 'God-Knows-Where' meant the dredges of Knockturn Alley. Lucius went there frequently, and it was only a matter of time before he brought Draco with him, but Narcissa was trying to prevent that from happening for as long as she could.

Draco took a generous amount of Floo powder and bellowed, "DIAGON ALLEY!" and deposited the ashes into the fire place. In a burst of green flame, he was gone.

Vivian did the same.

She was falling, her stomach had long since left her body, her other organs were a tangled mass. She was sliding, sliding…She landed on her bottom, right into the Leaky Cauldron. Draco had already steadied himself, rubbing his behind. Narcissa came swooping in, narrowly missing Vivian's head with her feet.

Tom, the bartender, cocked his head and then dodged quickly behind the table when he saw the forms of three unmistakable Malfoys. Narcissa got to her feet and brushed ash off her black clothing. "No, Tom," her syrupy voice rang out. "Lucius isn't here. It's just me and the children." 

The bartender shot a suspicious glance at them, and then showed himself in full view. "How are you, Narcissa?" he mumbled. 

"Just fine, thanks. Taking the children for some light shopping." Noting his embarrassment, Narcissa quickly said, "alright, kids, watch your step."

Diagon Alley was shining brightly, bustling all over with witches and wizards who needed a new robe, a new pet, new potion materials…On the alleyway between Quality Quidditch Supplies and Ollivander's, Draco spotted a family with vibrant, bright red hair. 

There was a woman, who one might assume was the mother. She was walking with two boys, a couple of years older then Vivian and Draco, who looked exactly alike. Twins, thought Vivian, as she turned her attention to a boy who looked around her age, and his sister, who looked a drop younger.

"Narcissa," said the woman coldly as she approached.

"Molly," replied Narcissa in the same brisk tone.

Vivian stared at the boy, ignoring the girl and the twins. He was staring back at her, but not really looking. Now that she stared at him, she couldn't believe how fiery red his hair really was. Freckles sprinkled the area between his eyes and nose, and his eyes were squinted, trying to decipher the exchange between his mother and that other woman.

"Damn Weasleys," Narcissa muttered once the family of redheads was out of sight. "How they could even afford to come to Diagon Alley…" Her voice trailed off once she saw the youngsters staring at her. "Ahem. You two, let's go to the Apothecary so I can stock up on some supplies." 

She led them to the store, whose smell was so ghastly that both children started to cough immediately. "I think you two better stay outside. Don't go off anywhere, I'll never be able to find you." 

"What's a Weasley?" Vivian asked once they were safely back in the windy atmosphere. 

Draco's eyes narrowed. "Another Wizarding family. Not like the Malfoys, of course." 

"Why not?"

He deeply exhaled, wondering why the hell his cousin, who looked so much like him, could be so uneducated and different. "Because," he almost whined, "they're poor and obsessed with Muggles." 

Vivian screwed up her face into a quizzical expression. "What's a Muggle?" 

"Gosh, Vivian, you really are dumb," he said. "A Muggle is a person who isn't magic. I can't think of anything worse then being a Muggle, except maybe being a Mudblood." He paused. "Wait, I know what you're going to ask next. What's a Mudblood, right?"

She nodded. 

"A Mudblood is a witch or a wizard who comes from Muggle parents. Disgrace, really. Father hates them and so do I." 

Vivian cocked her head to the side. "Strange, isn't it? How can you be a witch or a wizard if you're parents are those--things that aren't magic?"

"Do you know what a Squib is?"

She shook her head.

"A Squib is someone whose got magic folk for parents, but are non-magic themselves." 

He paused. "Sometimes things just happen, and you really don't know why they happen." 

Vivian was trying to think of a clever reply to that, but just as she opened her mouth, Narcissa came out of the Apothecary with a tightly closed bag. "Ah, there you are, good show. Shall we continue shopping?"

Draco nodded to his mother, and then gave Vivian a look, as to reinforce his wise statement. 

__

Sometimes things just happen, and you really don't know why they happen. She didn't know it just yet, but that phrase might have very well been the motto for her adult life. 

Vivian was rather quiet at dinner, avoiding glances and questions so she wouldn't cause another outburst at mealtime. There was small talk conversations; how was your day?, and such. Draco kept sneaking surreptitious glances at his cousin, but she chose not to return them. 

"Want to play Quidditch?" He asked her after supper.

She shook her head. "No."

"Why? I'll let you win, I promise," he shot her a cute smile. 

She shrugged. "Don't want to." 

"What's your problem?" He asked, rather nastily. 

She blinked a couple of times. "I don't have a problem, Draco." 

"I think you do."

"Oh yeah? Then what is it?"

He licked his lips quickly. "Heard my father say it. 'She's too naïve about the world and about her parents. One day, she's going to grow up to be bitter and cold-hearted, to lash back on the world for what it did to her.'"

Vivian felt like the words were buckets of ice being splashed repeatedly on her. If not that, then the words were a red-hot ironed hand, that had slapped her across the face. "Am not," she practically spat, wishing she were older so she could have came up with a more intelligent response.

Draco just shrugged, as if to say, "as you wish." Then he went outside to the back for a ride on his broomstick, a swift Shooting Star. 

Vivian stalked up the stairs into her own bedroom, for a change, and slammed the door so hard she thought she might have shattered the frame. "Am not," she said again, crawling into bed. "You'll see, Draco Malfoy."


	2. Revelations of the Malfoys

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Author's Note: Note: Lucius likes when Narcissa serves him breakfast. I like this chapter. A lot. 

***

"_Life is waterfall, then we turn around and put up our walls,_"

-- "Aerials," System of a Down 

****

November 1990

Vivian laid in her bed, hands clutching at her forehead. She just had another painful vision, where she was in a courtroom, and her distant Aunt Bellatrix had just been sentenced to life in Azkaban. There was so much emotion in this particular premonition that she could not help but feel ill. 

Her hair hung limp around her shoulders, her skin was waxy and pale. She was shaking wildly. A slight knock on her bedroom door felt as if a bomb had exploded outside the foyer. "Go away," she croaked. 

Draco opened the bedroom door and took in the pitiful sight of his cousin. "Dad wants to speak to you downstairs," he said, beginning to feel amused. 

She groaned again. "Not now," she mumbled, trying to turn over. "I really don't feel well." Draco remained in the threshold, not moving an inch. 

"Dobby will get you some water." He paused. "Dad really wants to talk to you." Admitting defeat, Vivian struggled against her sheets and gingerly forced herself out of the safe haven of her bedroom.

Following her cousin down the stairs, she passed the portraits of ancestors and famous relatives. As she trudged down the wooden steps, holding the railing, brightly colored shapes began to spring out from her eyes, and a wave of nausea spread over her, fast and surely. Losing her balance, she slipped and rolled down twenty steps.

Narcissa gasped; Lucius looked merely bored. Draco could hardly contain his laughter as Dobby ran to the aid of his young mistress. "Miss Vivian, is you okay?" He asked, green eyes wide with fear. He helped Vivian to her feet, looking at her with apprehension. "You is giving Dobby an awful fright."

Vivian took a deep breath as the house-elf helped her into an armchair, facing Lucius. "You is having a scraped elbow," Dobby said. "Here, Dobby fixes it." He gently stroked the cut, and she grimaced at being touched. Momentarily, the cut faded back to its normal milky color. He gave her another concerned look and went back to the domains of his kitchen.

"Now then," Lucius said abruptly. Shooting a cold glance at his niece, he mumbled, "no more interruptions if you please." Narcissa shot him a pleading glance, but he didn't seem to catch it. "You're ill because of your visions, right?" This seemed like the topic he was really eager to discuss.

She took a deep breath to regain full consciousness of her whereabouts. "Nice of you to notice," she snapped. "When could you tell, before or after I fell down the stairs?"

Lucius's cold eyes flashed and Narcissa cleared her throat. "Please don't talk to your uncle like that," her aunt said in a small voice. Vivian rolled her eyes. She loved her aunt very much but wished she wouldn't have to get involved. She knew she'd go off on her too if she was angry enough. Lucius spoke again.

"Tell me about your latest vision," he said, his tone becoming notably warmer. 

Vivian narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Oh, is that what you want?"

"Don't talk to me like that!" He snarled. Draco, who had long since stopped laughing, was watching intently, mesmerized that his cousin, of all people, had the guts to stand up to his father like that. Dobby was watching, fearfully, from the kitchen. "You know I'm very concerned for you," Lucius lied.

She discreetly covered her surprised snort with a tiny cough. "Tell me your damn vision!" he roared. His beet red face was up against Vivian's and she sank into the chair, feeling herself shake again. "I…I…" she stuttered. 

"I was in a courtroom," she said, her tongue feeling thick, "and…and…it was Aunt Narcissa's sister, Bellatrix. She was sentenced to life in Azkaban for torturing the Longbottom couple." Then realization dawned on her. "The Longbottoms…They killed my parents,"

Her uncle nodded, as if this made perfect sense. "You were filled with so much emotion…Fear, vengeful, remorseful…You were so emotion-drained from this image that you fell ill." He pronounced, as if he were a miraculous Healer. 

"Really? You think so?" Vivian couldn't help herself. Lucius's chest heaved in and out and he stared at his niece, picking apart this complex ten-year old like a puzzle. There were pieces missing…Pieces long since forgotten… 

He summoned Dobby. "Dobby, please help Vivian to her room," With that, and a swish of his cloak, he was gone. Narcissa rushed to some room in the huge mansion, and Draco just sat there, stunned. 

"Can Dobby help Miss to her bedroom?" He held out a bony hand, and she took it. Standing up again, all the images came back to her and she closed her eyes tight. 

"I think I'm going to be sick," she muttered and ran to the nearest bathroom, where she was thoroughly and completely sick.

Despite her protests, she was present at dinner. Dobby had deposited the plates on the table, quivering under Lucius's menacing glare. Pouring Vivian a new glass of water, he revealed a fizzy pill and tried to drop it in her drink, for hopes that it would make her feel better.

"That's not very wise, Dobby," Lucius snarled, not looking up. 

The house-elf took a big gulp and walked--if not ran--back to the kitchen. "Can I be excused?" Vivian asked, knowing the answer.

"You may very well not be excused," he snapped. "You can be dismissed from the table when the rest of the family is done with their meal."

She blinked. "But I don't feel well. I'm not hungry." 

"Very well then. You can watch us eat then." Lucius threw her an extremely triumphed smile and she could feel the beginnings of a sarcastic outburst coming, and she struggled with herself to bite her tongue.

Vivian looked to her cousin, who was very discreetly shoving potatoes in his mouth. Dobby watched her from the kitchen, looking depressed and his eyes screamed 'pity.' 

Twenty-five minutes later, Lucius saw her almost keeled over again, her forehead was glistening with sweat. "You may leave the table now," he said. Immediately, Vivian bolted up the stairs and to her room. Draco followed suit.

A couple of hours so later, when Vivian had emerged from her nap, she was starting for the kitchen to ask Dobby to fix her a snack, but she saw her aunt and uncle in the family room, in a heated debate. She flew to the hallway, her back against her the wall, hearing every word.

"Look at her Lucius," Narcissa said coldly, a fierce fire in her voice that Vivian had never heard before. Narcissa was usually more reserved, more friendly, never pushy or assured. 

She peaked her head around the corner, to see Narcissa staring up at her husband. Lucius's back was to her, and he was grasping his metal stick that he was never seen without. "She's ill and weak and can't function properly," Narcissa continued. "I really must protest. She needs to see a Healer."

"Damn it, Narcissa!" Lucius screamed and he hurled a crystal vase that promptly hit the wall and shattered. "You don't understand do you? You don't _fucking_ understand. How many times did I have to explain it to you? How many times did Avery? And McNair?" 

Vivian racked her brain. Those names sounded familiar…Oh yeah, she remembered. Those were Death Eaters too. They knew her parents, and had regaled her with stories of them when they came to visit. 

"I understand perfectly. It's just cruel and inhumane. This is your niece we're talking about," Narcissa snapped. Vivian felt her neck hairs get prickly, and her arms go numb. She peeked again, and saw Lucius start to pace the floor.

She could hear Dobby clattering pans in the kitchen, oblivious to the argument that was going on a few rooms away. "Yes, but imagine how I will get rewarded…Beyond my--_our_--wildest dreams."

Vivian closed her eyes. Rewards. It was about Voldemort, now she knew. "Rewards from the Dark Lord are more precious then the life of your brother's daughter?" 

"Desperate times call for desperate measures, Narcissa." 

"What would Deron say about this?"

"I believe he would have gone through with it himself. He was more of a supporter then I was. I think he'd have no problem sacrificing Vivian."

She closed her eyes. Oh, God, oh, God. She thought she was going to faint again, but then she'd blow her cover. She willed herself to stay calm and quiet and got down on her hands and knees to hear better. "Lucius-- She's only getting weaker." Narcissa argued.

"Exactly. The weaker she gets, the stronger her premonitions are. Once her premonitions are at the breaking point, she will feel like dying. As soon as this happens, she'll see The Dark Lord resurrecting. We can use her to bring him back."

Narcissa shuddered. "And then what happens to the poor girl?"

"Well, she won't be much use to us. I suppose The Dark Lord would want to use her for the visions, to tell him the future and who's going to betray him and whatnot. If not, he will probably dispose of her." 

Vivian felt the blood pound in her ears. She tried to stare at her aunt's face, but all she saw was blurred, fuzzy images. She ran up in the opposite direction, back up the stairs, and into her room. She needed to escape. She needed to run. Frantically, she grabbed for all her belongings. 

She grabbed her robes, her teddy bear that she had been with forever, and stuffed them in a trunk. Shaking madly, she began to talk to herself. "I got to get belongings…" She opened her closet door, looking for things that were worthy of taking.

At the very bottom, she found a booklet, whose pages were blank. On the black covering, in gold, the letters read TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE. Not knowing who it was, she figured she could use a companion on her escape, and packed into her trunk along with a bottle of ink and a couple of quills.

Locking her owl in a cage, she opened her bedroom door to find Dobby standing there. "Is Miss going somewhere?" Vivian stared at him, wrinkly, knobby and green eyes looking scared and lonely. 

"I'm sorry, Dobby," she said, scooping him in a hug. "You wouldn't understand."

The house-elf's lip began to tremble. "Dobby would understand better then anybody. Is you sure you is being okay? Where are you going?" 

Vivian sealed her trunk. "I don't know Dobby, I honestly don't. But I need you to do me one more favor before I leave." 

She led him to Draco's door. "I need you to stun him," she instructed the house-elf. Dobby gasped. He shook his head, begging for mercy.

"Please, Miss. Dobby cannot do that, he is Master's son!"

"He was never very nice to you. I need him stunned temporaily because I need his broom to escape. I haven't got one of my own." Dobby sighed, but nodded.

"Miss always was good to me," he said.

She gently opened the door and saw Draco sitting on his bed, reading a Quidditch magazine, where chasers and beaters zoomed happily on the pages. He looked up, noticed her trunk. "Where are you going?" He sneered.

Suddenly, Dobby's form jumped out from virtually nowhere. "_Stupefy!_" he said almost sadly. Draco stared at him, curious, for the moment before the spell hit him. He laid on his bed, still as stone. Vivian grabbed his broomstick that was at the foot of his bed. 

"To escape," she answered. 

Dobby followed her out of the room, all distraught about what he just did. "You is getting Dobby in a lot of trouble," he sighed. 

Rechecking her belongs, Vivian turned to face her only friend in the house in which she grew up. "No, you won't. You took orders from me. I'm a Malfoy, you have to." She stared at him, trying to muster up some words to say.

"Dobby is loving you very much, Miss Vivian." 

She stared at him, not knowing whether she should feel glad that someone had seen through her, or incredibly unhappy because he was living such a pathetic life for an extraordinary creature. 

"Come, Dobby," she said.

He took her into the backyard, safely hiding her from Lucius and Narcissa. "You will write to Dobby?" He asked, tears forming in his saucer sized eyes.

"I'll never forget you," she said truthfully. She swung her legs over Draco's Shooting Star and sped higher and higher into the air. She was wiser beyond her years, Dobby realized. She'd done so much without ever seeing the true outside world. "You never have to make my bed again!" She shouted as she finally flew out of sight. 

Dobby stood below her, pillowcase sagging around his shoulders. 

She wasn't that good at Quidditch, but she loved flying. Vivian felt as if she could do anything fifty feet in the air. The sky had grown black, and her trunk felt heavy under her arm. She had to carry it, because she had no wand to do magic. 

Lowering her broom, she guessed she was somewhere in Kent or Bristol. She lowered into a barren field that had lots of trees, so she had somewhere to sleep. She knew this wasn't realistic, she felt like a fugitive, but how could she live in the Manor, knowing that her uncle didn't love her at all, and that her own father would have sacrificed her? 

She shoved the trunk to her side, along with the broom. Leaning over it, she felt her fingers grasp what she needed. She pulled out the diary, a quill, and a snack for her owl. Closing her eyes, and leaning her head against the lumber, she wrote:

__

My name is Vivian Malfoy. 

Vivian shrieked as the ink disappeared almost immediately upon having written them, and felt her stomach churn as new words appeared, in a different handwriting. 

**__**

Hello, Vivian. My name is Tom Riddle. How did you come across my diary? 

Trembling, she wrote:

__

I found it at the bottom of my closet. Who are you? 

She noticed his answer was taking longer then usual, but surely, he replied:

** __**

I wonder how it got there. Like I said before, my name is Tom Riddle. Did you say you were a Malfoy? 

Staring at the book, she answered:

__

Yes, Vivian Malfoy. I was born on January 31, 1980.

Almost instantly, she had an answer.

**__**

I know everything about you. I also know your parents were Deron and Leda Malfoy, and they were killed on April 12, 1980 by Frank and Alice Longbottom. You were in the care of your father's brother, Lucius, and his wife Narcissa. They have a son named Draco. 

Almost knocking her ink bottle over, she scribbled:

__

How do you know all of this?

Not knowing if she wanted to know the answer, she read:

**__**

You're mine now, Vivian. 

Harry Potter awoke from a very strange dream. His room was still dark, and he couldn't see because he didn't have his glasses. He dreamed of a silver-haired girl with a diary, and she was writing intently. He had no idea why, but his scar was prickling as well. 

He rubbed it gingerly and shoved the clock close to his face so he could see the red numbers that showed the time. It was two in the morning…Too early to get ready for school…But his head ached so badly…

Putting on his glasses, he could have sworn he saw an owl fly by his window. Weird, he thought. He opened the door of his cupboard and could hear the snores of his relations from upstairs. He walked into the kitchen and flicked on the lights. 

Trusting that it was safe, he flicked on the TV, where the late-late news had been playing. "This just in," said the gregarious news anchor. "A girl, from whereabouts unknown, has been reported missing. Said to have silver hair and eyes, any information on this girl can be called to 1-800-MISSING-KIDS. I repeat, a girl with silver hair and eyes is missing. If you have any information on her, you should call 1-800-MISSING-KIDS."

Harry felt increasingly uneasy. This was not the first time he had dreamed weird things. His scar throbbed. Dudley gave another abrupt snore. Hoping for more word on the missing girl, the anchor said, "and now, back to your regularly scheduled program." 

He shut off the TV and lights. Trudging back to his cupboard, he tried to ignore the stabbing pains in his forehead.

Severus Snape traced an aged finger on his left forearm. It had not burned in nearly nine years, but tonight…it felt sort of tender to the touch. He looked at it curiously, but it was its dormant, brown color. "Severus?" said a voice behind him.

"Headmaster," he said, slightly bowing.

Albus Dumbledore nodded briefly, but looked concerned. "It's happened." 

"No," the Potions master whispered. "Are you certain?"

The white haired man nodded. "Quite. I shall alarm the Order. Do not be surprised, Severus, if your mark feels rather…Weird." Then he left, his purple cloak leaving behind a slight breeze. 

Severus shook his head, and hurried in the other direction. He found Professor McGonagall talking with Hagrid. "Minerva, Hagrid," he said shortly.

"Why, Severus, what's the matter?" Professor McGonagall asked, rather alarmed at the unusual magnitude of his brusqueness. 

His greasy black locks angled his face untidily. "She's escaped."

Minerva's eyes widened. "Is…Is Albus sure?"

Severus nodded.

"It can't be," Hagrid said, rather loudly, "Harry Potter isn't even here yet. It can't be happening now!"

Minerva clasped her hand to her head. "Hagrid, go to Albus immediately. He'll be needing you. Severus, standby so if your mark burns, I'll be able to reach you. I've got to inform the staff." And she stalked off in the other direction, looking pale.

Vivian stared at the diary, not aware of how much mayhem she had just caused all over the Wizarding world. The diary had won her over, and now they were talking with candor.

__

No one understands me like you do, Tom.


	3. Malfoys and Merdocs

****

Author's Note: This chapter is really dark. It's sort of like CoS, where Ginny got manipulated by the diary, only Vivian is a bit smarter then her. Lucius realizes the seriousness of what has happened; someone interesting finds Vivian and brings her to refuge. 

***

"_Am I too lost to be saved? Am I too lost?_"

-- "Tourniquet," Evanescence

Lucius awoke the next morning, please to have made Narcissa see the light about his plan. He was looking forward to a nice celebratory breakfast, to talk to his son about what it was like to serve a great man, and keep an eye on his niece. 

Getting into his morning robes and collecting his paper from the owl, he strutted downstairs and took a seat at the table. Narcissa was by the counter, pouring his coffee. Draco was staring blankly ahead at Dobby, and Vivian…

Wasn't there. 

"Draco," he snapped. "Go upstairs and get that blasted cousin of yours."

His son remained still and silent in his seat. "Did you hear what I said, Draco? Go upstairs and get Vivian."

"She's not there," Draco mumbled. 

He blinked a couple of times. "Not there? What do you mean, 'she's not there'?" Dobby involuntarily gulped, trying to skulk away into the shadows. Lucius turned to the house-elf. "Dobby. Come here. _Now._" 

Dobby obeyed his master and walked over cautiously. "Master, I is telling you where Miss Vivian be." 

"Yes, you shall, right this instant!" Lucius roared. Dobby shuddered, feeling the heat from Narcissa's and Draco's eyes as they stared at him with fear and horror. His pillowcase began to slip off of his bony shoulders, and he tentatively pulled it back up. 

Whimpering, he said, "Miss Vivian runs away last night. She takes Young Master Malfoy's broom and has me put a Stunning Spell on him. She escapes last night." 

Narcissa let out a horrific scream; Lucius slammed his hand onto the table. "God damn it, Dobby!" he sputtered. "And you let her go? _You stunned my son?_" Dobby whimpered again and nodded.

"But, Sir--She is being a Malfoy. Dobby must take orders from her."

Lucius's lip curled at the realization that this ignorant, stupid creature was right. "Nevertheless, Dobby, she was in your charge at the moment. I have a good mind to give you _clothes._" He ignored his breakfast and jumped out of his seat. "I've get to get to Hogwarts, if Dumbledore knows about this already--"

He snapped his fingers, and closed his eyes, but nothing happened. He tried again. Draco stared at him in amusement. "What the hell," Lucius muttered, opening his eyes, "why can't I--?"

"You is forgiving Dobby for saying so," said the house-elf, "but you is not being able to Apparate on Hogwarts grounds, remember?" 

He stared at his servant and cursed. "Damn you, Dumbledore," he threw on his cloak. "Very well, then. I'll have to go to Hogsmeade. Dobby, you look after Draco, do not let him out of your sight and _don't Stun him._ Narcissa, you come with me." 

Lucius sighed again and disappeared. Narcissa shot a sympathetic glance to Draco and Dobby, and then disappeared as well. Draco stared at Dobby with a look of confusion and hatred. "Why did you Stun me, anyway?" he asked.

"Dobby has to take orders from any Malfoy," the ragged old creature magically cleared the table. "Miss Vivian is being a Malfoy, and she is asking me to Stun you so she could get your broom. I had to do it, Master Malfoy. Dobby apologizes." 

Draco sneered at Dobby. "You are sad. And pathetic, and…I wish my dad did give you clothes!" With that, he ran up the stairs and slammed the door to his room.

"I wish so, too, Master Malfoy," Dobby said sadly. 

Lucius found himself in the middle of a chilly Hogsmeade, with Narcissa by his side. "Lucius," she whispered, "do you think she's okay? What if someone finds her? Oh, I hope she hasn't gone too far."

Her husband sneered. "Stupid girl, what could have possibly driven her to run away from home?"

"Maybe she heard what you had in store for her." Narcissa said coldly. Lucius stared at her, knowing she was probably right. But he didn't acknowledge that fact. 

They strode to the front castle in a few, quick steps and were greeted by Filch, opening the door. "Lucius," Filch said in a disgusting tone.

"Argus," he said abruptly. "I have no time for your insults that are undoubtedly brewing inside of you. My niece has gone missing, as you may know. Or has Dumbledore only chosen to tell real Wizard kind what has happened?"

Hogwarts' caretaker's eyes flashed, with no words to say. Lucius took Narcissa's hand and rushed into the corridors. Bumping into various teachers, like Fltiwick and McGonagall, they all stopped him.

"Albus wants to see you, immediately. He'd knew you'd be coming," 

Dumbledore was situated in the Great Hall. Classes had been put on hold, because he needed to address the teachers. It seemed that only the Slytherin students who had Death Eaters for parents seemed to know what was going on. 

The wise, old, white haired man was on a podium, and seemed to spot Lucius immediately. "Ah, just the man we needed to see. Lucius. Have you had any leads on her whereabouts?"

"Just that she escaped on my son's broomstick." He watched as the teacher's murmured accusations and whatnot into each other's ears. "She had the house-elf Stun my son, and virtually escaped right under my nose." He felt himself grow hot at the hushed whispers. "If you've got something to say to me, I damn well suggest you say it to my face--"

Dumbledore got to his feet. "Lucius," he said sharply. "I know you're…upset, but we are just trying to help you get young Vivian back home." Then he softened. "Did you know her name means 'alive' in Latin? I daresay she'll be safe, if she's true to her name." 

Lucius scowled. Sure, he wanted her to be alive, but weakened and malfunctioned. Those are when the strongest views come into play…_Strong and sturdy…Just the particular vision he'd want her to see…_He cleared his throat. "Ah, yes. Of course. But, Professor Dumbledore, sir, what if someone--_unpleasant--_finds her?"

"You mean to say, a Death Eater?"

He nodded.

"Well, Lucius, I'm willing to take that chance. I'm sure your niece is far too smart to fall into the wrong hands. Unless of course, you want her to?" Albus stared at him, the twinkle in his eye there, but not shining as bright as it usually did.

**__**

Go on, Vivian. You trust me, do you not? Just take this wand I'm about to give you and whisper 'Morsmordre.' 

But, why Tom?

****

If you do it, I can live again. I can rise to be a great wizard, and give you everything you ever wanted. Have you ever heard of Voldemort?

There isn't a witch or wizard alive who hasn't…

****

He did great things, did he not?

My parents served him. 

****

They were great to him. He appreciated their noble work. Will their daughter be going down the same route to Voldemort's path?

Voldemort's dead, Tom. Harry Potter killed him nine years ago. 

****

Voldemort lives. He never dies. Just say the word, Vivian. And he will rise again…

Vivian stared at the diary in fear. She had somehow managed to reach London, her diary burning in her pocket. Tom had shown himself to be a friendly companion, but he had wanted her to do things…Thing that she had foreseen as evil…

She outside the road of Diagon Alley, in her view were stores she'd visited with her aunt and cousin. She was in another alleyway, darker, and lacking the warmth that Diagon Alley had. A sign informed her she was in Knockturn Alley.

"Lost, m'dear?" Asked a gangly witch with missing teeth and stringy hair. Vivian shook her head, and turned fast, with the broom, diary, and trunk weighing her down. How her uncle dealt with this place frequently and took walks down here to clear his head, she'll never know…

In the windows of stores, there were skeletons and books that advertised dark magic and whatnot. Every witch or wizard seemed to have a couple of teeth gone from their gums, limp hair, or none at all…and they all seemed to be stroking a spot on their left forearm…

Growing tired and the sky growing murky, she looked for refuge by a deserted walkway, away from the shops and bustle of darkness. Slinking against the hard stone wall, she secretly wished she had never left home, and that she still had the warmness and loved she had received from Dobby, if she couldn't get it from her family.

"Well, well, well," said a voice behind Vivian, making her eyes pop open. 

An extremely ugly man was hovered over her. He had oily patches on his head where hair was missing, yellowing teeth, and a tight skull. He held out a battered hand. "I know you," he said, his breath shallow and rancid. She gulped. 

"How? It's…Impossible," she sputtered.

The character gave a laugh, which didn't reach his eyes. "My name is Igor Karkaoff. I know--knew--your father. I know your uncle. I'm the Headmaster for Durmstrang." Durmstrang. It sounded familiar…The diary burned hot under her arm.

Karkaoff cocked his head and beckoned for the girl to give him the book. "This should not be in your possession, Miss Malfoy." He took it in his long fingers. "I'll be sending it back home." He paused. "Why are you here, may I ask?"

Vivian tried to speak but found herself so weak and drained when she got to her feet, she collapsed into Karkaoff's arms. "Ah. I know exactly what to do with you," he murmured to her unconscious body. 

Lucius was now back at the Malfoy Manor, ignoring Dumbledore's owls that informed him that Vivian was very much alive. "We've got to find her," Narcissa pleaded. "Lucius's…She's your niece." 

He rolled his eyes. "Believe me, someone will find her. Let's just hope it's someone who can take the plan into action. She's out of my charge now." 

Narcissa didn't take this an answer. "What do we tell Draco? What do we tell him became of his cousin who he has grown up with?" 

"She's dead."

"Lucius, no, I can't--"

"You can and will, Narcissa. I'm going to the Ministry to inform them of our loss. You'll be using this time to talk with Draco. Make sure he knows the seriousness of Vivian gone."

And he Disapparated. Narcissa cursed under her breath, and trudged up the stairs to have a talk with her only son. He was in his room, of course, where else would he be?--playing with some sort of toy that Lucius bought him. At Knockturn Alley, no doubt.

"Draco," said his mother softly. She stepped into the room, sighing. "Please, put that away. I need to talk to you." Draco obliged, and stared at his mother, trying to read her mind. He sat--more like jumped--on his bed, and his mother conjured up a chair beside him. "I know you've noticed that Vivian is gone,"

"How can I not? I was Stunned because of her, and the house is eerily quiet." He paused to let his mother laugh, he was sure she was going to laugh. She didn't, but she cracked a smile. 

"Listen, Draco. Your father thinks…he thinks your cousin…He thinks Vivian is dead," Narcissa said quickly, closing her eyes so she wouldn't see Draco's face. 

She heard her son gasp. "But, Vivian only left last night! How could she be…dead?"

"He heard word that a girl that fits her description was found outside of Scotland." 

__

Scotland? Draco thought ridiculously to himself. _Vivian has never even been further then Diagon Alley, and all of a sudden she shows up in Scotland?_ He didn't even notice his mother leave the room. She couldn't be dead…Who was going to annoy him and ask to share his bed? Who was going to sic Dobby on him for every little thing? Who was going to be his cousin?

Draco shut his eyes tightly as the door to his bedroom slammed. Several tears streamed down his face.

When Vivian finally awoke, she felt herself being jerked around helplessly. Getting conscious enough to actually recognize her whereabouts, she realized she was on a bus.

"Where…am I?" she asked a man she didn't know. Closing her eyes, she suddenly remembered. All the recent events came rushing back: Her uncle's plan, her leaving, Tom wanting to cast a certain spell, being picked up by that horrible man, and fainting in Knockturn Alley.

The man looked up from his newspaper. "You're on the Knight Bus. You fainted. I took you. Don't worry, you'll be fine," he said, trying to smile.

"Who are you?" she asked, bluntly. 

He tried to smile again, revealing very yellow, crooked teeth. "Igor Karkaoff. Headmaster of Durmstrang." 

"The Dark Arts school," Vivian said, now remembering where she heard the name. 

Karkaoff sneered, and folded his newspaper and stuck it in his shirt pocket. "Not quite. Your father was considering sending you to Durmstrang when you reached of age, did you know that?"

"No," said Vivian, icily. She got up out of her bumpy bed. "I don't know anything about my parents except that they served Lord Voldemort and got themselves killed by Aurors when I was almost four months old." 

Igor cocked his head and stared at the girl, with some thoughtfulness. "You look just like them. The Malfoy/Merdoc gene, I daresay. It was remarkable though. Your mother was a Merdoc and they looked just like the Malfoys. And you've got the Malfoy attitude," he noted, staring at the seething expression on Vivian's face.

"What's a Merdoc?"

The headmaster clicked his tongue. "So uneducated, shame. The Merdoc family are like a clone to the Malfoys. Purest of pure blood, goes back for centuries. You have Malfoy and Merdoc blood. How lucky for you."

"Where are we going?"

"To Durmstrang, of course. You look a fright, silly girl, and you need care. I want to fulfill your father's wishes. Your uncle, of course, would like you to learn under my ruling as well."

At this, Vivian had to protest. "What? No way! I want to go to Hogwarts, with my cousin. We're going to be in Slytherin together and I want to continue the Slytherin dynasty!"

"Durmstrang is a thousand times better then Hogwarts. Your bloodline would be delighted if they knew you'd be attending Durmstrang. As for the Slytherin dynasty, I believe that the Durmstrang dynasty is much better." 

She narrowed her eyes. "This is kidnapping, you know. You have no right to take me into your possession and--" She darted her head around. "Where the bloody _hell_ is my owl?"

"I've sent it back to your home, with that blasted diary. I've also sent a letter informing your informing your family where you are." Her mouth hung open. "Oh, please. You'll get your ruddy owl back."

The Knight Bus hit a bump in the road, sending Vivian a few centimeters into the air. "I'd watch your mouth if I were you, Miss Malfoy." Karkaoff's eyes gleamed, referring to Vivian's near outbreak about being kidnapped. "I don't take any kindly to delinquents at my school."

"Tell me about the Merdocs," she said, admitting defeat. "You obviously have great knowledge about my ancestry." Karkaoff gave a slithering smile and laid back upon the skinny, uncomfortable headrest. He nodded.

"You're right," he said, "I do." Then, he paused. "Just about any Pureblood who has been brought up right knows about the Merdocs. Haven't you ever used your Seer blood to search into your past?" 

Vivian shook her head. "I didn't know I could do that," she mumbled.

Karkaoff gave a short laugh. "My, my, Miss Merdoc-Malfoy, you certainly do have a lot to learn. Lay back, and I will tell you everything that I know. …Which happens to be practically everything. Your family is very famous. _Most_ very famous." 

He cleared his throat. "Your great-grandparents went to Hogwarts. Adalon Liaborn, your great-grandfather, was in Ravenclaw. He met Sophia Merdoc, a Slytherin, and married her after graduation. Her family was so prestigious, that the Merdocs always kept their last name, and their partners had to take it as well. So your grandfather became Adalon Merdoc. They had three children, but lost two of them. The only one who lived past birth was Catalyana, your grandmother."

"How do I pronounce that?" Vivian snickered.

Karkaoff glared at her, as if he couldn't believed that she dared interrupt him while he was explaining her family history. "Ca-tal-yana." He shot her another look. "Anyway, Catalyana was the only one to live past birth. She was also a Seer. She prophesied that the last Merdoc heir with Seer blood would be heir to the Merdoc fortune.

"Now. Catalyana never married, but she did give birth to two children. Markus and Leda, they were twins. Leda is your mother, I know you know that. They both became Death Eaters after Catalyana died, and Markus was killed about three years before your mother." He paused. "Your full name is Vivian Catalyana Merdoc-Malfoy. Did you know that?"

She shook her head. 

"You were born on January 31, am I correct?"

She gaped. "How did you know--?"

He held up a bony hand with bitten, yellow nails. "Catalyana was also born January 31. She was an Aquarius, the water-bearer. Probably the most celebrated Seer of all time. She gave life to some people, as water does. _And you're her heir._"

Vivian scratched her head. "I'm the only living Merdoc left?" she asked in amazement. Karkaoff scratched the stubbly hair of his chin and nodded.

"Yes. That leads me to my next point. You see, Catalyana also left behind a certain gift with her Prophecy. It's called 'The Prophecy of Blood' I believe. Your grandmother left behind a certain talent to whoever her last remaining Seer heir was. You, along with being a Seer, have the power to travel back and forth in time, transporting yourself and whoever else you may want to bring back with you." 

Her eyes widened. "There are so many things I could have changed! I could have brought my parents back--I could have done so much, how come my aunt and uncle never told me about this?"

"I don't know." Karkaoff shrugged. "Perhaps they didn't know, either. But you cannot use the time-traveling gift until your eighteenth birthday."

Vivian cursed out loud. "_What?!_ I've been having visions ever since I can remember. I know I'm a Seer, why can't I--?"

"You can ask Catalyana that when you see her. No doubt you'll be wanting to visit your grandmother once you've got the power to, eh?" He watched her astonished expression and pursed his lips. "Bedtime," he said. "We've got a big day tomorrow."

The girl sank into the lumpy bed, her heart pounding in her head, ears, neck, and chest. Vivian Catalyana Merdoc-Malfoy laid in the darkness until she drifted off to sleep. 


	4. One Chapter Ends

***

"_No one knows what it's like_

To be the bad man

To be the sad man

Behind blue eyes.

And no one knows what it's like

To be hated.

To be faded…Telling only lies.

But my dreams…They aren't as empty

As my conscience seems to be.

I have hours, only lonely.

My love is vengeance 

That's never free.

No one knows what it's like

To feel these feelings

Like I do…

And I blame you."

-- "Behind Blue Eyes," Limp Bizket 

****

June 1997, Hogwarts

Seven years could change a person. In Draco's case, the seven years since he hadn't seen his cousin had made him bitter and resentful and sarcastic. The taut muscles in his jaw were like that because he rarely smiled. He only spoke to make wisecracks and make other people feel about two inches tall. 

It was all Vivian's fault; she had made him that way. She had fucked up their plans, just like she fucked up everything when they were younger. They were supposed to be sorted together. They were supposed to both be in Slytherin and feel superior because they were Malfoys, or Vivian was supposed to be in Ravenclaw and get laughed at by him because she wasn't worthy enough to be a Slytherin. This was destined, but then she had to run off and die. He stared at the realms of Hogwarts and spat at the ground.

It was the night before his graduation, when he was to return home for what was possibly the final time before embarking out on his own. He had been of age for a little over six months now, and he was contemplating the fact of not even attending graduation.

But that would be too pretentious, he decided. Something Harry Potter would do. Draco grimaced. He _did_ like the boy in more ways then one, no doubt, but the fact that he had to admit it to himself and break the secrecy was just nauseous-making.

He sat in the Slytherin common room, thinking he was the only one still awake. He didn't even feel the shadow of another person's presence sweep over him. When he did finally look up, he saw Blaise Zabini staring back at him, her pouty lips puckered out.

"Go to bed, Blaise," he sighed out of the corner of his mouth. Blaise looked thoughtful, then shook her head. She stared at him some more, elevating her head with her hand until she decided to speak.

Her eyes moving across the room, she said, "what's the matter with you? We're graduating tomorrow, we're powerful people." Draco chewed at his lip, scratched his ear, and cracked his knuckles.

"Thinking." 

"About what?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"I wouldn't understand? Oh, come on. I'm really the most misunderstood Slytherin of the bunch." 

"Yeah, well. I'm the most feared and hated."

Blaise laughed. "Yeah, you really are, Draco. But tell me what's on your mind." She conjured up two extra pillows, one for her and one for him. Draco took one and rested it above his knees, staring at the green flamed fire.

"I…Well. I wanted my cousin to be here. She was supposed to come to Hogwarts with me when we turned eleven." He mumbled, not really that thrilled about pouring his heart out to Blaise. After all, she was pretty aloof, like that Luna girl from Ravenclaw--but she had given him a pillow, and was a pretty sympathetic listener.

The girl nodded. "What happened?"

"She died. Right before we turned eleven, in fact." 

Blaise gasped. Her mouth hung slightly and she didn't know whether it was better to say something, or just stare in shocked silence. "I…I'm sorry," she finally croaked, realizing all of Draco's rage and contempt had really been from wallowing in grief too long.

"It's alright. I just feel so betrayed, because we had these plans and they were shattered, and I was a ten-year old so you know, I didn't know what was going on. She was my best friend. She fucked me up pretty bad." 

"What was her name?"

He suddenly needed to grip his mind to remember. All of those years, he had been referring to his cousin as 'her' or 'she.' She had been gone so long to him that her name had become something useless, worthless to her forgotten identity. "Vivian," he finally said, the name feeling heavy and weighted on his lips. "Vivian Malfoy…Don't know if she had a middle name or anything like that."

Blaise nodded. "She'll be at graduation tomorrow, you'll see." She got up and stretched her arms. "The way you talk about her, she must be an angel. You rarely talk nice about anyone. And there's this old Muggle saying that angels watch down from above. So, she'll be there tomorrow." 

With that, she stalked back to the Girls Dormitory. 

Draco still sat in his chair, clutching his pillow, thinking about all the 'what-ifs?' and if his cousin was sitting next to him on the armchair, tugging playfully at his robe, staring at her matching one, with the Slytherin emblem sewed onto it.

***

**Durmstrang**

Most of the almost-graduates of Durmstrang were sleeping soundly in their dormitories, oblivious to the rowdiness of their drunker classmates and their parties downstairs. Vivian was in her house's Common Room, obviously and thoroughly drunk, splayed out on the floor by Ralph Detmov's feet. 

He was drunk himself, though not as drunk as Vivian, and was quite pleased by the attention that the Merdoc-Malfoy was giving him. Two girls in armchairs at the far end of the room were snickering. "Remember how nice she used to be? Now she's just a sarcastic whore," they spat.

Ralph slowly lifted Vivian to her feet, who giggled. "So, what are you doing after graduation?" he whispered huskily in her ear. She leaned over to murmur in his own ear, but missed. 

"Gonna travel and prove 'em wrong," she laced her arms around his neck and tried to smother it with kisses, but he pushed her away, and began to smooth back her greasy blonde hair.

"Going to prove who wrong?" he asked.

With that, Vivian let out a throaty laugh. "Fuck 'em all," and she sprawled herself onto Ralph's front side. She began to kiss his lips and place her nimble hands on his shoulders. He reciprocated by wrapping his legs around her waist. 

"Is this how you want to spend the night before graduation?" he asked her, sliding her dress sleeves up and down her arm. She gave a raspy growl, and grabbed him by the hand, no doubt leading him towards her dormitory. 

After lots of drunken tripping and giggling, they finally arrived at their desired bed, and Vivian was more then happy to get their party underway. She stripped Ralph off his shirt the manual way, and decided to use her magic the only way she deemed useful and chanted the rest of his clothes off. 

Ralph grabbed Vivian by the waist and decided he wasn't going to waste any time fumbling with his wand. He ripped Vivian's black dress by the sleeves and kissed and bit her with such ferocity that she almost bruised instantly. Vivian didn't seem to mind her companion's roughness; in fact, she seemed to encourage it. 

"I want you," she said, barely audible. Ralph leaned her up against the headboard and pushed her dress by her hips, making it into a rumpled mess. He chewed at his lip and stared at her. Her eyes were glazed over from all the alcohol she consumed during the course of the night and she nodded for him to go on. "I'm not a virgin," she slurred.

He nodded and winked at her, and just before he was about to make the night before graduation the most memorable way he could imagine, he closed the curtains around Vivian's bed, and did not re-emerge until the next morning. 

***

**Hogwarts**

Draco awoke in the morning on the same arm-chair he'd fallen asleep in. Realizing where he was and what the day would hold in store, he cursed under his breath. He had wallowed so in his bitterness and contemplated his talk with Blaise, that he completely blacked out in the Common Room from tiredness and didn't have the strength to make it to his own bed.

"Well, you fucked me up again, Viv," he muttered as he skipped three steps running up the stairs. He almost ran head first into Millicent Bulstrode. "Sorry," he said hastily, pushing past her and arriving at the landing. He turned left so fast he thought his ankle would break in two. 

He ran into the Seventh Year Boys' Dormitories with a brilliant deep breath. The boys in there, who were fixing their dress robes and whatnot, all stopped their idle chit-chat and stared at him. Draco held up his hands and, without even bothering to shower, pulled on his dress robes.

"Where were you?" drawled Goyle, who was unthinkingly poking Crabbe in his arm. Draco shrugged him off and adjusted his color. He tried to slick back his hair with some Hair Potion, but it did nothing good. He laid it flat on his head.

"Um, Common Room…Dozed off for a bit, yeah." He nodded to his lackeys, who were still poking and prodding each other. He made a face to himself and tried to fix his hair once more. "So this is it, huh, guys?" he said.

Crabbe and Goyle stared. "This is what?" Goyle asked.

"The big day." Draco paused. "…_Graduation._ It's like this really big ceremony where all the people celebrated leaving the school and moved onto bigger and better things." He adjusted his dress robes once more and stalked out of the dormitory. 

***

**Durmstrang**

Vivian awoke slowly to a pounding in her head, and it took her a minute to realize that it was the blood flowing in and out of her cavities. She felt heaviness on her, and saw, as she unglued her eyelids, that Ralph was sprawled on his side, his muscular arm draped around her middle. He lacked clothing. Sitting up, she realized she did, too. 

Ralph moved his arm, groaning. It was obvious that he was as hung-over, if not more so, then she was. "Morning," he said sleepily. Scratching his head, he suddenly sprung to his feet and grimaced. "Fuck!" he shouted. "Today's graduation. Fuck, fuck, fuck!" He grabbed for the clothes that he had been so willing to take off the previous night.

"Oh, God," Vivian groaned, clutching her stomach. "I think I'm going to be sick." She ran past the bed into the showers, where she was noisily ill. Re-emerging sweaty and placid, she changed her clothes into an elegant white dress robe, and her greasy hair into a perfect bun. To cover up the vomit and alcohol on her, Vivian sprayed some SmellyWitch Perfume. 

Sniffing the aroma, she stared blankly at Ralph. "Do I know you?" she asked. Ralph blinked, his clothes of their drunken encounter clinging to his skin. He shuffled his foot on the thick carpeting and cleared his throat. 

"Um, yeah. We've been going to school together for…seven years. We made love last night," he mumbled.

Vivian's eyes widened. "Oh, right! Ritchie. Yes, of course. Well, you were great. Really amazing. Well, got to go, people to meet…graduation ceremonies to attend…" And with that, she was off. Ralph stood by her bed, scratching his head. 

***

**Hogwarts**

Despite his lateness at getting dressed, Draco was the first one in the Great Hall. He was alone in the vast room, except for Dumbledore who was setting up his podium. "Ah, Draco," he wheezed. 

"Hello, Professor," said the boy. He looked around the room, which was normally packed with tables and decorations, but was now crammed with chairs, all in neat rows. There was a respectable sized stage in the front, where the podium was. Welcome to Graduation at Hogwarts. "If you're busy, I'll go now," he said.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "No, it's quite alright. You are more then welcomed to stay if that's what you please." Draco gave a curt nod as a way to show his gratitude and sat down on the first chair he saw. Dumbledore gave a quick clap and a huge banner hung overhead, saying 'Congratulations Graduates.'

Draco scowled. "What? Not happy about finally leaving?" Dumbledore chuckled. With another swift movement of his fingers, the banner was perfected. "Another door closes, another one open, Mr. Malfoy," said the Headmaster. With a satisfied nod, as to reinforce the statement, he left, leaving Draco all alone, pondering what the Mudblood Lover had said.

**Durmstrang**

Vivian was the last one to arrive at the graduation ceremony, but that was fine because she was always the last one for breakfast, lunch and dinner…the last person to enter the classroom and the last one to leave…Everything she did was somewhat aggravating and she always held people back.

"Ah, Miss Merdoc-Malfoy," said Karkaroff. Giving a curt smile, she spotted a seat next to the same girls who were talking about her last night. She felt someone, Ralph probably, squirming uncomfortably behind her. "If you would be so kind as to sit down, we could get the ceremony started." 

She gave a terse smile and sank into her seat, feeling the oil on her hair and skin like beaded drops. Karkaroff cleared his throat, and discreetly cracked his knuckles and searched for the paper on his podium.

**Hogwarts**

In the course of the next hour, Draco sat in the Great Hall as slowly, but surely, people started filing in. He was surrounded by people he liked, people he despised, people he never knew, people he never got the chance to know. He was seated next to Justin Finch-Fletchly (despised) and Padma Patil (who?). 

Over his shoulder, he could see ditzy Blaise chatting up Ron Weasley, who seemed as if he'd rather make the graduation speech himself then talk to her. Then there was Hermione Granger, and Harry…

Draco felt his heart beat. Forcing himself to look away, so Harry wouldn't see him staring, he looked hard and long at the podium until Dumbledore took a long stride onto the stage, arranged the papers in front of him, and began to speak.

**Durmstrang**

"As you sit here before me, you are just about to take another step in this world. While many of you are seventeen already, some of you are still sixteen, and are only one year away from true independence. I have seen you grow and mature, and be wise beyond your years. You have talent, and intrinsic worth. You have authority, erudition and most of all…You have each other. I have done the most I could to ensure that you have had a first-rate education, and a first-rate time here at Durmstrang. You are no longer in my care, and it is up to you now to make the right choices and nurse yourself through your mistakes. Congratulations, Class of 1997." Karkaroff finished.

He tried to look at everyone of them, but there were too many. Most of the students were grinning broadly or wiping away tears, or fighting back tears. The parents sitting on the other side of the room were grinning so broadly that their jaws might just snap into two. Vivian sat in her chair, rubbing her temples and wondering where she could find some aspirin to numb the torture of her hangover.

Karkaroff began to speak again. "Some of you in this very room have already found your calling. I hope the rest of you find it soon, and with ease. A mind is a terrible thing to waste, but all of you have your minds. Use them to question, use them to explore, and use them to bring some good into this world." He paused. "Always look back on your memories at Durmstrang, and let it be the inspiration that you need to accomplish whatever your heart desires."

The audience erupted in more applause, and Vivian fought back the urge to vomit again. "Now, students, please rise and form one straight line against this wall." 

****

Hogwarts

"As you sit here before me, you are just about to take another step in this world. While many of you are seventeen already, some of you are still sixteen, and are only one year away from true independence. I have seen you grow and mature, and be wise beyond your years. You have talent, and intrinsic worth. You have authority, erudition and most of all…You have each other. I have done the most I could to ensure that you have had a first-rate education, and a first-rate time here at Hogwarts. You are no longer in my care, and it is up to you now to make the right choices and nurse yourself through your mistakes. Congratulations, Class of 1997." Dumbledore finished.

Hermione clapped the loudest, and Draco heard her ask Harry something, he couldn't hear over the thunder of applause. He couldn't hear Harry's answer, either, because Harry never did answer. Dumbledore began to speak again. 

"Some of you in this very room have already found your calling. I hope the rest of you find it soon, and with ease. A mind is a terrible thing to waste, but all of you have your minds. Use them to question, use them to explore, and use them to bring some good into this world." He paused. "Always look back on your memories at Hogwarts, and let it be the inspiration that you need to accomplish whatever your heart desires."

The audience erupted in more applause, and Draco sneered, highly doubting he'd ever look back on this school with fond memories. "Now, students, please rise and form one straight line against this wall."

After both graduations were completed, the students in both schools began to head back to their Common Rooms to get ready for an enormous party and feast. Vivian trudged behind all her classmates, contemplating whether or not she really wanted to attend the party. After all, there would be alcohol, and then she'd feel compelled to drink. And her bed looked so inviting…

At Hogwarts, however, Draco was situated by the door, watching as each parent and student filed out, until he saw the one person he really wanted to see. After a few minutes, he saw a mound of bushy, brown hair and a slight glimmer of a red scar. He stopped Harry as he walked through the door.

"Hi, Harry," Draco mumbled.

Harry squinted his eyes. "What do you want, Draco?"

"Can't a fellow classmate say congratulations?"

"I…I guess so," 

"Hey!" someone called out. "You're holding up the line!"

Draco discreetly gave him the middle finger and turned his attention back to Harry. "Alright, then. Congratulations." 

The Boy-Who-Lived nodded, and then gripped Hermione's hand very securely as they both filed out the door. 


	5. Booze

***

"_You don't remember me, but I remember you,_"

-- "Taking Over Me," by Evanescence

****

August 2001

Diagon Alley looked different at night. Perhaps it was missing the usual screaming children, the complaining witches, and the aggravated wizards, but whatever it was, it covered the atmosphere like a thick, smoldery fog. The platinum-haired woman seemed to just disappear out of thin air into the murky streets. 

Glancing up at the end of the road, she nodded to herself and quickened her pace. The Leaky Cauldron looked the same as it had been the last time she'd seen it, some eleven years ago. Despite the late hour, the bartender was still up and about, re-arranging tablecloths.

"Tom," she said slowly, remembering, savoring the name. He wasn't a significant person in her life, but he was minor key to the past. Inching closer to the door, she could see him through the windows, and her reflection as well. Her hair was blown out of proportion from the wind, her eyes were etched with sleep deprivation lines, her lipstick that made her lips garnet like her nails was lumpy and uneven.

The bartender, humming a tune to himself as he set napkins and cutlery on the tables now, threw a quick glance to the outside world and stopped short in his tracks when he spotted the young woman that was rooted to the spot right outside the door.

Opening the entryway, he stared her down, hard and trite. "Sorry, Miss, but we're closed. Do you know what time it is?" The woman strode in through the tiny crack and sat herself down at the nearest table. Tom sputtered incoherent phrases and clauses to himself.

"Are you lost, Miss? I thought I told you that we're _closed,_ I--" Eyes falling upon masses of silver hair and irises, and an acerbic, cold expression. Tom's jaw would have completely fallen off his face if it hadn't been hinged on. "Vivian? Vivian _Malfoy?_"

The woman sitting in the old, wooden chair shifted her weight uncomfortably. "I don't know what you're talking about," she mumbled, using her thumb and index finger to massage tiny sections of her neck.

"Don't bullshit me," Tom said, with something of a laugh in his tone, "there is no mistaken that hair and those eyes. You're Vivian Malfoy."

Vivian forced a wry laugh and wiped a greasy strand of her hair from her eye. "Oh, no," she said, now scratching her neck, "I do believe _you're_ mistaken."

"No, I don't think so," he said, stroking the gray stubble on his chin. "I'd swear it in front of the Minister of Magic." He cocked his head to the side. "You have Deron's facial expressions, but your eyes and mouth are definitely Leda's." 

Involuntarily touching her eyes and lips, she said skeptically, "you knew my parents?"

"Who didn't?" Tom said, which he thought was an answer that would suffice Vivian. At that, her eyes flashed angrily, and he knew he'd struck a big chord. He gulped as quietly as he could, because a Malfoy is someone you did not want to get on the bad side on. Especially a Malfoy with Merdoc blood.

"For all the wrong reasons," she replied, shooting him daggers. 

The silence was palpable. Tom went back to rearranging the tablecloths, and willed himself not to look at the girl, although she cleared her throat several times to get his attention. "I would like something to drink," she said to his back.

At this, he turned around. "Gillywater?"

"I was thinking something stronger. More along the lines of Fire Whiskey." Tom nodded at this request, and scurried behind the counter, whipping out a glass and a long, black bottle. Coming around the counter and handing it to her, she nodded her thanks and took a long sip. It burned on the way down, and she fought the urge to cough.

Tom smiled sardonically. "Not much of a drinker, are you?" he asked.

"On the contrary," she hummed, now gulping the alcohol. Downing the last bit of it, she got something of a brain freeze, and clutched her cranium in pain. "When you've had the life that I've had, you can't help but get addicted to a liquid comfort, you know what I'm saying?"

The bartender nodded slowly. "You're going to get yourself in a whole lot of trouble living the rest of your life with a bottle in your hand." he said wisely.

"This is coming from a bartender," she mumbled. "Practice what you preach, eh old man?" She sipped a bit more, grimacing again as she did so. "Nevertheless, I never did care much for Fire Whiskey."

Tom turned to his back to her again. "Well, then why do you drink it?" he asked, though from being around people like her too often, he knew the answer immediately.

Vivian gave a slight snort and licked her already chapped lips. "It helps," she said simply. 

"Helps what?" Tom asked, even though, again, he knew the answer.

She didn't answer. Instead, she finished the last of her beverage and gingerly stood up. "You wouldn't happen to have a room for me to stay the night, would you?"

He nodded, and finally put down his dishrag. He led her up he rackety wooden steps, and on a door on the right hand side, labeled "14." Opening the door, she was led to a bed, night table, mirror, and bathroom. "This will have to do," Tom said apologetically.

"I guess so," she sighed, exasperated. He eyed her empty hands.

"Where are your bags?"

"I didn't know I was supposed to bring any. No, don't worry about me. Living large on the high road…I suppose, for a while, anyway." She plopped down on the creaky bed. "Thanks, Tom."

He sighed and shook his head. "Good night, Miss Malfoy."

***

Forty seven miles to the west, another Malfoy was just settling down to sleep. He was dressed in loose trousers, hair tousled so sloppily, but he didn't really give a shit. Because right now, all he wanted to do was get some sleep.

"What's the matter?" Came the voice that was also occupying the bed. Draco shot a look at Harry and shrugged. Harry nodded his head. "Vivian, again, huh? Let it go, man. How many years ago did it happen?"

Draco clenched his tight muscles on his abdomen. "It doesn't matter if it was last month or last decade. It's like a permanent scar, losing someone. I don't believe you'd know about it."

Harry gave a distinct cough, which sounded a lot like 'Sirius, my parents…' Draco gave a sympathetic smile. "Sorry. I…I'm an asshole."

To which the Boy-Who-Lived nodded and said solemnly, "yes, yes you are." To finalize his point, he flicked off the light and turned over, leaving Draco with a gloom choice: stand in the darkness, in the shadows like he'd been doing his whole life, or try to force himself to get some rest.

Choosing the latter, Draco crawled into the bed and sighed as quietly as he could. 

***

Vivian couldn't sleep, but she was used to that. All of those times of hard, wired, drunken nights in her teens sort of made her immune to the sandman's visits. While her eyes drooped, her mind raced and all she could think about was her reentrance into the world she'd left behind.

The Mirror in her bedroom sighed, showing her an exasperated reflection of herself. "Honestly, woman, can't you go to sleep? It's quite unnerving to see you lying there, like a corpse."

"Sorry." Now Vivian sat up, staring at herself. "I don't do the whole play in the day, rest in the night sort of thing. I'm nocturnal." She felt odd, explaining herself to a mirror.

The looking glass sighed and started to fiddle with its hair. "Ah. So you sleep when the sun is up and about?" Vivian gave her a weird sort of look and laid back down on the bed, her hair cascading across the fluffy, white pillows.

"Uh, I don't do the sleep thing period."

"But surely, you must get tired and rundown at some point."

"I've resisted it so long I've forgotten what it was like to be tired, to desire sleep above anything else. Am I pathetic?"

"No, just really tragic."

Vivian let those words take her through the rest of the night. _Just really tragic…_She didn't know what was so 'tragic' about her life, really. Yes, she was orphaned long before she had first memories, but a lot of other people were orphaned too. Like Harry Potter. She was a runaway, but then again, she debated herself, lots of other people run away too, but they do it because they have to, because they _need _to. 

I'm not really that pathetic, she thinks to herself, before she's afraid she gives into sleep, the enemy. The enemy that makes her see things she never wanted to see, tries to forget. Remembering every bottle she's ever drunk and every guy she's ever invited into her bed, she finally gives into the enemy. 

***

The next morning, both cousins rise an hour apart from each other. Draco is always up before Harry, _always,_ and Vivian always awakes before the sun is shining, if she really did go to sleep, before the alarm clocks have gone off, before anyone else has settled.

Today's the day. 

Pretty sure she's awake before Tom, she slips down, in the same clothing as yesterday, into the bar, and is flabbergasted to see Tom and--_customers. _Running back up the stairs, she threw herself back into the room. She didn't realize that Tom opened so early and had people coming to drink.

"Who drinks this fucking early in the morning?" she asked out loud. Then, she stopped herself. "I do. Sometimes. FUCK." Rushing to the mirror, she tapped the glass to wake her reflection up.

The reflection yawned and rubbed her eyes. "Ah, got some sleep I see. How may I help you? You look fine, just a bit of eye crud in the corner of the left eye. Yes, that's it, right there. Now, what do you want?"

"Make me look different."

"What?"

Vivian bit her lip and grabbed the mirror by the rim. "There is a whole bunch of drunken customers downstairs who _will_ notice me. The only person who knows who I am is Tom, and even that is too much. Please help me. Please?"

The reflection picked at her nail. "Ah, ah. You are too self-centered that you think everyone is going to notice you as soon as you enter the door. No, I'm not changing our appearance. You go at there and ignore them and keep your head high."

"…I am a Merdoc-Malfoy. We do not ignore people. We are the instigators." Vivian seriously thought about breaking that blasted mirror, but decided against it. Muttering incoherent curses under her breath, she flung the door open and descended for the stairs. 

__

She discreetly entered the bar, and took a seat by the very end. Glancing quickly at the customers - middle-aged, uptight - she noticed that someone was staring at her, mentally examining her. She shifted her weight around the seat. Keeping her eyes down - _don't look up, don't seem too curious_ - she grabbed the first thing she could, which was a dirty, empty glass.

And yet, still, she can feel those eyes.

Severus Snape sipped his glass as he watched the young woman self-consciously fiddle with her hair.

***

"Shit," he muttered. He knew he shouldn't come any closer, hell, he shouldn't be watching her, but it was coincidental, ironic, paradoxical…That she could be here, alive, right now, at this very second, drinking beer right in front of him. He would have to report to someone, anyone, but…

He finished his drink, felt the buzz go through him. He called over the unsuspecting witch that was reading _Witch Weekly_ next to him. "Excuse me," he said, pointing to Vivian's back, "is it me or does that girl look startlingly like Vivian Merdoc-Malfoy?"

"Good lord, child," the witch laughed, indicating his glass, "better stop drinking like that, dearie. You going to start hallucinating even more. Vivian Merdoc-Malfoy has been dead for years." However, she took a closer look. "Sort of," she said, and then went back to her reading.

Leaning in to get another look at her, Severus's elbow accidentally sent his glass to the floor with a deafening _crash. _Everyone turned to look, even Vivian. His eyes went wide as his angry black ones intersected her fearful silver ones. "Vivian!" he screamed once he got the full view of her, stabbing an accusing finger in her direction. "I knew it was you!"

At once, Vivian screamed and ran out of the Leaky Cauldron into the deep brick nothingness that separated her from the rest of Diagon Alley.

***

Harry finally awoke to find Draco already dressed and on his third cup of his "special tea" - tea, with splashes of rum and cocoa in it. "What's the matter with you?" he asked grumpily, starting for the stove to make some eggs. "Where are you going so early?"

"Diagon Alley." came Draco's curt reply. "I need to clear my head. Want to come with me? I'll wait for you to get showered." Harry shook his head, making his hair, if it were possible, more tousled. 

The blonde man shrugged. "Want anything special?" Harry shrugged and the frying pan sizzled with relish. "I really do wish you'd use magic around the house," Draco said with disdain as Harry started on an apple. 

"Well, I'm off. I should be back before lunch." With that, Draco popped himself out of the kitchen and into the midst of Diagon Alley.

***

"Fuck," Vivian still stood by the bricks, not knowing what to do or where to go. She tapped random bricks with her nails, and they hissed at her. She didn't know the formula. Just then-- the door swung open and Snape flung himself at her. 

His face was pressed against hers, their bodies so close that her breasts pushed into his stomach. "Who knows?" his voice whipped at her ear. "Who knows that you're here, god damn it?"

"I…" she searched for the words, feeling her stomach leave her body completely. Then, something snapped at her -- you are the fucking heir of Catalyana Merdoc, only the most celebrated Seer of all time. Fuck this hooked-nose, greasy-haired prick. "No one knew except Tom until you opened up your trap. Thanks to you, you insolent, smarmy bastard, this thing will be hitting the papers as we fucking speak!"

Snape took a step back. "Do you know who I am?"

"Search me."

"I am Severus Snape. I knew your father, I know your uncle, I know your cousin. Do you know the sort of agony they'd be in if they knew you were alive all of this time?"

"Agony?" a small smile played on her lips. "I thought they'd be overjoyed that ole ViVi has decided to come back and wow them with her charms."

He exhaled a bit, his breath playing on her exposed neck, which he then clamped a fist over. "Your charm is as non-existent as my sex appeal. You might have everyone else fooled by your seductive ways and 'damsel-in-distress' act, but I've got your number." He let go of her throat.

Gasping for air, and retaining it quickly, she flashed him a wry smile and turned her back to him, remembering that the bricks were two up, three across. 

***

Draco loved the alley when it was either very early or very late. The crowds were thin, and usually there was a serene film of tranquility the hung around the atmosphere. He kind of hoped that Harry would decline his invitation, because this is the sort of thing that you'd like to be alone with.

There was virtually zilch engagement on the streets, and the first stores were just opening up. As he became the first customer at the Apothecary, Vivian exploded from the bricks and began to run. Her mind was racing, and she felt the embarrassment rise and settle on her cheeks. She was embarrassed because she made a mistake. She never, ever made mistakes.

And now, here she was, running through Diagon Alley, running from a mistake. Draco handed the clerk his silver and was about to swing open the door, when a lithe, blonde woman ran past, and tripped over a stray stone.

She felt flat on her face, and Draco heard the tear of human flesh. He immediately ran to her aid, and was faced with her back. Blood was trickling down the side of her leg, and her blonde hair was now dusted with street earth.

"Miss, are you alright? That was a nasty fall--" he gingerly turned her over and felt his heart stop the minute he saw her face. Silver eyes upon silver eyes, intense coldness swept over them.

Vivian bit her lip and tried to make a run for it, but found her limbs were immobilized. Draco was stationary, too, it seemed. "Vivian?" he asked incredulously. Her lips were gaped slightly, and she was still unable to move or speak.

Draco slowly rose to the side of the street and promptly vomited. 

***

Harry arrived at work slightly earlier the usual, and was meant with a puzzled look by his best friend, and fellow Auror, Ronald Weasley. "What's going on?" Harry asked, noting that all the workers, no matter their department, were all crowded around one table and comparing data.

"Someone filed a phony missing persons report eleven years ago, and it seems that just now the Ministry has found it as void." Ron snorted at that. "The Ministry is slipping these days, isn't it?"

Harry ignored that comment and started for the table where everyone else was situated. Ron followed suit. "So who is it?" he asked the redhead. "Who did they find?"

Ron peered over the shoulder of someone who was holding a folder. "Vivian Catalyana Merdoc-Malfoy."


End file.
